The Danville Conspiracy
by ratluck2
Summary: Phineas, Ferb, Isabella, and the rest of the gang are 23-24 now, and all have gotten successful jobs on the Danville Police force known as S.T.A.R.S. But what happens when bizarre murders begin to happen in the forest? PxI
1. Prologue

_Danville Gazette, March 12, 2011_

**Danville Civic Center receives huge grant courtesy of Umbrella**

_Downtown Danville-_The Danville Civic Center for the artistic and creative kids will be receiving a 2.5 million dollar grant for their art and science departments, as well as maintenance department. This is yet another act of generosity by the worlds leading pharmaceutical company, Umbrella. In addition to the grant for the civic center, Umbrella has also given substantial amounts on money to the Danville Memorial Hospital and the Tri-State area Police department.

"We are excited to be receiving this grant," Mr. Herro, one of the teachers at the center, "We really appreciate Umbrella's support in advancing the young minds of the future."

_Danville Times, March 14, 2011_

**Bizarre Murders Committed in Danville Forest**

_Danville Forest-_The mutilated body of forty-two year old Mason Ryan was discovered yesterday in an abandoned lot near his home. Reports say that the body showed evidence of cannibalism, with jaw marks apparently made by human jaws.

Shortly after the discovery of the body by two joggers, Chief Monogram issued a brief statement informing the populous that "all possible actions to ensure civilian safety will be taken. The DPA will instigate an investigation into the matter.

_Danville Times, March 15, 2011_

**Three More Murders in the Danville Area**

_Danville Forest- _The bodies of Mark Eliot, Olivia Olson, and Ray Foster were found at the edge of the Danville Forest. Friends of the deceased claimed that they attempted to find the killers and bring them to justice. Police Chief Monogram has officially set a curfew for ten o'clock PM, and is employing more police hours to ensure the safety of the citizens.

_Danville Times, March 18, 2011_

"**S.T.A.R.S" Special Tactics and Rescue Squad called into Danville to solve bizarre murders. **

_S.T.A.R.S office- _Following the recent deaths occurring around the Tri-State area, Police Chief Monogram has officially created the Danville S.T.A.R.S to help solve the murders occurring around Danville.

Founded in New York in 1967, the privately funded S.T.A.R.S. organization was originally created as a measure against cult-affiliated terrorism by a group of retired military officials and ex-field operatives from both the CIA and FBI. Under the guidance of former NSDA (National Security and Defense Agency) director Marco Palmieri, the group quickly expanded its services to include everything from hostage negotiation to code breaking and riot control. Working with local police agencies, each branch office in the S.T.A.R.S. is designed to work as a complete unit in itself. The S.T.A.R.S. set up in Danville thanks to donations from local businesses, and is currently led by Captain Albert Hawkins, promoted to the position only six months ago…..

/

**Hello fanfic readers, this is a series of newspaper articles revealing what happened before the present story. I am allowing cameo's in this fic, so if you want a cameo, just send me a name with gender and you'll be put in as a cameo. Thx, and enjoy reading.**


	2. Ch1 Part One

Isabella was already late for the briefing when she somehow managed to drop the keys into her cup of coffee on the way out the door. There was a muted _ting_ as they hit the bottom, and as she paused in mid-stride, staring in disbelief at the steaming ceramic mug, the thick stack of files she carried under her other arm slid smoothly to the floor. Paper clips and sticky notes scattered across the tan carpeting.

"Aw, Shit."

She checked her watch as she turned back toward the kitchen, cup in hand. Albert had called for the meeting and 1900 sharp, which meant she had nine minutes to make the ten minute drive, find some parking, and get her late butt in a chair. The first actual meeting since the S.T.A.R.S. had been established-hell, her first meeting as a S.T.A.R.S. member, and she was going to be late.

_Figures. First time in years that I actually give a rat's ass about being punctual, and I fall apart at the door._

Muttering darkly, she hurried to the sink, feeling tense and angry with her self for not getting ready earlier. It was the case, the goddamn case. She'd found her copies of the mission files, and spent all day examining everything, from the autopsies to the witness reports, which were few and far between, searching for something, heck anything, that the cops missed-and felt more and more frustrated as the day slipped passed and she'd fail to come up with anything new.

She dumped the mug and scooped up her warm, wet keys, wiping them against her jeans as she hurried back to the front door. She crouched down to gather the files- and stopped, staring at the glossy color photo that had ended up on top.

_Oh,girls…_

She picked it up slowly, knowing that she didn't have time and yet unable to look away from the tiny, blood splattered faces. She felt the knots of tension that had been building up all day intensify, and for a moment it was all she could do to breath as she stared at the crime scene photo. Rebecca and Fossy Sweetwater, ages seven and six. She'd flipped past it earlier, telling herself there was nothing to see…

…_but it isn't true, is it? You can keep pretending or you can admit it-every thing is different now, its been different since the day they died._

When she'd first move back to Danville, she'd been under a whole lot of stress. Besides her two childhood friends and they occasional familiar face, all of which she has not seen in a year, she was truly alone. At one point, she'd been been giving serious though to just blowing out of town, just giving the whole "S.T.A.R.S." thing up…

Until two little girls who lived across the street had shown up on her doorstep and asked her with wide, tear stained eyes if she was really a police woman. Their parents were at work, and they couldn't find their dog.

…_Becky in her green school dress, little Fossy in her overalls-both of them sniffling and shy…_

The pup had been wandering through a garden only a few blocks away, no seat- and she'd made two new friends as easy as that.

The sisters had promptly adopted Isabella, showing up after school to bring here scraggy bundles of flowers, play in her yard on the weekends, and sing her many song that they had learned from movies and cartoons. For the first time in six years, she felt like she truly belonged in the community she lived and worked in.

Six weeks ago, Becky and Fossy had wandered away from a family picnic in the Danville park- and became the first two victims of the psychopaths that have since been terrifying the nice city.

The photo had trembled slightly in her hand, sparing her nothing. Becky was lying on her back, staring blindly at the sky, a gaping, ragged hole in her belly. Fossy was sprawled next to her, arms outstretched, chunks of flesh ripped savagely from the slender limbs. Both children had been eviscerated, dying of massive trauma, before they bled out. It they had screamed, no one had heard…

_Enough! Their gone, but you can finally do something about it!_

Isabella fumbled her papers into her folder, then rushed into her little silver hatchback, and drove to the station, tears in her eyes…

"_I swear girls, I'll bring those bloody bastards to justice."_


	3. Ch1 Part Two

"Yo, Phineas!"

Phineas turned away from the soda machine and saw Django Brown striding down the empty hall toward him, a wide grin on his tanned, boyish face. Django was actually a few years older the Phineas, but looked like a rebellious teenager-long hair, a studded jean jacket, a tattoo of a skull smoking a cigarette on his left shoulder. He was also an excellent mechanic, and one of the best shots Phineas had ever seen in action.

"Hey, Django. What's up?" Phineas scooped up a can of club soda from the machines dispenser and glanced at his watch. He still had a couple of minute before the meeting. He smiled tiredly as Django stopped on front of him, eyes sparkling. Django was carrying an armful of equipment- vest, utility belt, and shoulder pack.

"Albert gave Drew the go-ahead to start the search. Bravo team's going in." Even exited, Django's Chicago street twang slowed his words to a stereotypical Chicago drawl. He dropped his stuff on one of the visitors chairs, still grinning widely.

Phineas frowned. "When?"

"Now. Soon as I warm up the 'copter." Django pulled the Kevlar vest on over his T-shirt while he spoke. "While you Alphas sit taking notes, we're gonna go kick some cannibal ass!"

_Nothing if not confident, us S.T.A.R.S. _"Yeah, well….just watch **your **ass, ok? I still think there's more going on here then a couple of slobbering nut jobs hanging around in the woods."

"You know it." Django pushed his hair back and grabbed the utility belt, obviously already focused on the mission. Phineas thought about saying more, but decided against it. For all of his bravado, Django was a professional; he didn't need to be told to be careful.

_You sure about that, Phineas? You think Dan was careful enough?_

Sighing inwardly, Phineas slapped Django's shoulder lightly and headed for the op room though the doorway of the small upstairs waiting room and down the hall.

He was surprised that Albert was sending the two teams in secretly. Although it was standard for the least experienced S.T.A.R.S. to do the initial recon, this wasn't exactly a standard operation. The number of deaths alone was enough to call for a more aggressive offense. The fact that there were signs of organization to the murders should have brought the mission to A1 status, and Albert was still treating it like some sort of a training run.

_Nobody else sees it; they didn't know Dan…_

Phineas thought again about the late-night call he'd gotten from his childhood friend. He hadn't heard from Dan in awhile, but he knew he had taken up a job as a researcher for Umbrella, the pharmaceutical company that was the single biggest contributor to the economic prosperity of the Tri-State area. Dan had never been the type to jump at shadows, and the terrified desperation in his voice had jolted Phineas awake, filling him with deep concern. Dan blabbed that himself, and all of Danville were in grave danger, and begged Phineas to meet him at an old diner on the edge of town-and never showed up. No one had heard from him since.

Phineas had run it over and over again in the sleepless nights since Dan's disappearance, trying to convince himself that the attacks and his friends disappearance were not connected-and yet he was unable to shake his growing certainty that there was more going on to meet the eye, and that Dan knew what. Phineas's instincts was that his friend was dead, and that he had been killed by somebody who wanted to keep him quiet.

_And I seem to be the only one. Monobrow doesn't give a shit, and the team thinks I'm just torn up over the loss of an old friend…_

He pushed the thoughts aside as he turned the corner, his boot sending muted echoes through the arched second floor corridor. He had to focus, to keep his mind on what he **could **do to find out why Dan had disappeared-but he was exhausted, running on a minimum of sleep and an almost constant anxiety that has plagued him since Dan's call. Maybe he **was** losing his perceptive, his objectivity dulled by recent events…

The door to the S.T.A.R.S. office stood open, the muted sounds of gruff male voices spilling out into the hall. Phineas hesitated for a moment when he heard Chief Monogram's voice among them. "Just call me Major" Monogram was a self-centered and self-serving politician masquerading as a cop. It was no secret that Monogram had his money grubbing little fingers in more then a few local pies. He had even been implicated in the Maple-Drive land scam of '02, and although nothing was ever proven in court, anyone who knew him personally didn't harbor any doubt.

_Of course, it doesn't help much that he hates your guts, does it Phineas?_

Yeah, well. Phineas didn't like to kiss ass, and Monogram didn't know how to have any other kind of relationship. At least Monogram wasn't a total incompetent, he'd had some military training. Phineas pasted on a straight face and stepped into the small, cluttered office that served as the S.T.A.R.S. base of operations.

Ferb and Phinello were over by the rookie desk, looking though some files and talking quietly. Baljeet Rai, the Alpha pilot and hacker, was drinking coffee and staring at the main computer screen. Across the room Captain Albert was leaning back in his chair, smiling blankly at something the chief was saying. Monogram was leaned against Albert's desk, one hand stroking his carefully groomed mustache as he spoke.

"So I said, "your going to print what I tell you to print. Super Flash, and your going to like it!" and he says…"

"Phineas!" Albert interrupted the chief, leaning forward, "Good, you're here. Looks like we can stop wasting time."

Monogram scowled in his direction, but Phineas kept his poker face. Albert didn't care much for Monogram either, and he didn't try to be any more polite in his dealings with the man. From the glint in his eyes, it was obvious he didn't care who knew it either.

Phineas walked into the office and stood by the desk he shared with Buford Van Stomm, one of the Bravo team's members. Since the teams usually worked different shifts, they did not need much room. He set the unopened can of soda on his desktop and looked at Albert.

"You're sending Bravo in?"

The captain gazed back at Phineas, impassively, arms folded across his chest. "Standard Procedure, Phineas."

Phineas sat down, frowning. "Yeah, but with what we talked about last week, I thought-"

Monogram interrupted. "I gave the order, Flynn. I know you think that there's some kind of cloak-and-dagger going on here, but I don't see any reason to deviate from policy."

_Sanctimonious Prick…_

Phineas forced a smile, knowing it would irritate Monogram. "Of course, sir. No need to explain yourself on my behalf."

Monogram glared at him for a moment, then apparently deciding to let it drop. He turned back to Albert. "I'll expect a full report when Bravo returns. Now, if you'll excuse me, Captain…"

Albert nodded. "Chief."

Monogram stalked past Phineas and out of the room. He'd been gone less then a minute before Ferb started in.

"Think the chief took a shit today? Maybe we all oughtta chip in for Christmas, get him some laxatives."

Phinello and Baljeet laughed, but Phineas couldn't bring himself to join in. Monogram was a joke, but his gross mishandling of this investigation wasn't all that funny.


	4. Ch1 Part Three

Ferb stood by Phineas's desk for a moment, trying to think of some thing else to say, but his brother didn't look like he was in the mood for conversation. Ferb shrugged inwardly and headed back to where Phinello was going through files. Phineas was a good guy, but he took things too hard sometimes; he'd get over it when it was their turn in to step in.

Man, it was hot! Seemingly endless trickles of sweat rolled down his spine, gluing his T-shirt to his broad back. The air conditioning was on the fritz as usual, and even with the door open, the tiny S.T.A.R.S. office was uncomfortably warm.

"Any luck?"

Phinello looked up at him from the pile of papers, a rueful smirk on his lean face. "You kidding?" It's like someone hid the damn thing on purpose."

Ferb sighed and scooped up a handful of files. "Maybe Isabella found it. She was still here when I left last night, going through witness reports for about the hundredth time…"

"What are you two looking for, anyway?" Baljeet asked.

Ferb and Phinello both looked over at Baljeet, still sitting at the computer console, headset on. He'd been monitoring Bravo's progress throughout the fly-by of the forest district, but for now he looked as bored as hell.

Phinello answered him. "Ah, Ferb claims there are floor plans in here somewhere on the old Spencer estate, some architectural digest that came out when the house was built-" He paused, then grinned at Baljeet," Except that I'm thinking that 'Ol' Ferbs gone senile on us. They say memory is the first to go."

Ferb scowled good-naturedly. "Ol' Ferb could easily kick your ass into next week, little man."

Phinello looked at him mock-seriously. "Yeah, but would you **Remember **it afterwards?"

Ferb chuckled, shaking his head. He was only twenty eight years old, but he'd been with the S.T.A.R.S. for fifteen years, making him the senior member. He endured many old age jokes, mostly from Phinello.

Baljeet cocked an eyebrow. "The Spencer place? Why would it be in a magazine?"

"You kids, gotta learn your history," Ferb said. "It was designed by George Trevor. Rumor has it that Trevor went crazy during construction and when it was finished, he got lost and wandered the halls until he died of starvation."

Baljeet scoffed, but suddenly looked uneasy. "That is, how you say, shit of the bull variety. I never heard anything like that."

Phinello winked at Ferb. "No, its true. Now his tortured soul roams the estate at night, calling out, 'Baljeet Rai….bring me Baljeet Rai….'"

Baljeet flushed slightly. "Yeah, ha ha. You're a real comedian, Ello."

Ferb shook his head, smiling, but wondered again how Baljeet ever made it to the S.T.A.R.S. He was undoubtedly the best hacker working for the S.T.A.R.S. and was a very good pilot but he wasn't so hot under pressure. Phinello had taken to calling him 'Chicken-Heart Jeet' when he wasn't around, and while the S.T.A.R.S. generally stuck up for one another, nobody disagreed with Phinello's assessment.

"So is that why Spencer shut it down?" Baljeet addressed this to Ferb, his cheeks still red.

Ferb shrugged. " I doubt it. It was supposed to be some kind of guest house for Umbrella's top execs. Trevor did disappear right about the time of completion- but Spencer was whacko anyway. He decided to move the company headquarters to Europe, and just boarded up the mansion. Probably a couple of million bucks, straight into the crapper."

Phinello sneered. "Right, like Umbrella would suffer."

True enough. Spencer may have been insane, but he had enough business savvy to strike it rich.

"Anyway," Phinello went on, "Monobrow sent someone from Umbrella out to check the place out, make sure it was secure, no break ins."

"So why look for blueprints?" Baljeet asked.

It was Phineas who answered, startling Ferb. He'd walked back to join them, his youthful face fixed with a sudden intensity that borders on obsessive. "Because it's the only place in the woods not checked bt the police, and its practically in the middle of the crime scenes. And you can't always trust what people say."

Baljeet frowned. "But if Umbrella sent somebody out…"

Whatever Phineas was about to say in response was cut short by Albert's loud, soothing voice, rising from the front of the room.

"Alright, people. Since it appears Ms. Garcia-Shapiro isn't planning on joining us, why don't we get started?"

Ferb gazed fondly at the picture of Vanessa and the girls that sat on his desk. Phineas's obsession with the murders was understandable, particularly since his friend disappeared. Nobody in town wanted to see another life lost. Ferb had a family, and was as determined as anyone else on the team to catch the killers. But Phineas's relentless suspicion had gone a little overboard. What had he meant by that, "You can't always trust what people say?" Either that Umbrella was lying or Chief Monogram was….

Ferb didn't know what it meant. He sighed, and waited for the meeting to begin.


	5. Ch2 Part One

Isabella was deeply relieved to hear the sound of Albert's voice as she jogged toward the open door to the S.T.A.R.S. office. She'd seen one of the helicopters taking off as she arrived and been positive they'd left without her. The S.T.A.R.S. were a fairly casual outfit in some respects. But there wasn't any room for people who couldn't keep up-and she very much wanted to be a part of this case from the get-go.

"The DPD has already established a perimeter search, spanning sectors one, four, seven, and nine. It's the central zones we're concerned with, and Bravo will set down here..."

At least she wasn't too late; Albert always ran meetings the same way- update speech, theory, and Q and A. Isabella took a deep breath and stepped into the office. Albert was pointing to a posted map at the front of the room, dotted with colored tags where the bodies were found.

He hardly faltered in his speech as she walked quickly to her desk, feeling suddenly like she was back in high school and had shown up late for class.

Phineas Flynn threw her a big, friendly smile as she sat down, and she smiled back before focusing on Albert. She didn't really remember anyone from Danville except Phineas Flynn. Hell, Phineas was probably the main reason she joined the S.T.A.R.S. in the first place. She loved him with all her heart and soul, and she joined the S.T.A.R.S. for the soul purpose of being closer.

"... after a fly-by of the other central areas. Once they report in, we'll have a better idea of where to focus our energies."

"But what about the Spencer estate?" Phineas asked. "Its practically in the middle of the crime scenes. If we start there, we can conduct a more complete search-"

"-and if Bravo's information points to that area, rest assured we'll search there. For now, I don't see any reason to consider it a priority."

Phineas looked incredulous. "But we only have Umbrella's word that the estate is secure..."

Albert leaned against his desk, his facial features expressionless. "Phineas, we all want to get to the bottom of this, but we need to work as a team, and the best approach here is to do a thorough search of the woodland area before we start jumping to conclusions. Bravo will take a look-see and we'll do this by the book."

Phineas frowned, but said nothing more. Isabella could barely resist the urge to hug Phineas.

"Isabella. I see that you managed to find the time to come in, Illuminate us with your brilliant insight. What have you got for us?"

Isabella met Albert's sharp gaze evenly, trying to seem as composed as he was."Nothing new, I'm afraid. The only obvious pattern is location..."

She looked down at the notes she had on the stack of files in front of her, scanning them for reference. "Uh, the tissue samples from both Rebecca Sweetwater and Ray Foster's fingernails were an exact match, we got that report yesterday...and Tonya Lipton had definitely been hiking in the foothills, that'd be sector seven-B..."

She looked back up at Albert and made her pitch. "My theory at this point is there's a possible ritualistic cult hiding in the forest, four to eleven members strong, with guard dogs trained to attack intruders in their territory."

"Extrapolate." Albert folds his arms, waiting.

_At least no one had laughed._

Isabella plunged forward, warming to the material. "The cannibalism and dismemberment suggest ritualistic behavior, as does the presence of decomposed flesh found on some of the victims-like the killers are carrying parts of the previous unknown victims. We've got saliva and tissue samples from our human assailants, though eye-whiteness reports suggest up to ten or eleven people. And those killed by animals were all found in the same vicinity, suggesting that they wandered into some kind of off-limits area. The saliva traces appear to be canine, though there's still some disagreement." She finished, beginning to trail off.

Albert's face betrayed nothing, but he nodded slowly. "Not bad, not bad at all. Disprove?"

Isabella sighed. She hated having to shoot down her own theory, but that was part of the job, the part that encouraged clear,rational thinking. The S.T.A.R.S. trained their people not to fixate on any single path to the truth.

She glanced at her notes again." Its highly unlikely that a cult that big would move around much, and the murders started too recently to be local; the DPD would've seen signs before now, some escalation to this kind of behavior. Also, the level of post-mortem violence indicates disorganized offenders, and they usually work solo."

Phinello, the Alpha vehicle specialist, piped up from the back of the room. " The animal attack parts works,though, protecting their territory and all."

Albert scooped up a pen and walked over to the white board next to his desk, talking as he moved. "I agree."

He wrote _territoriality_ on the board then turned back to face her. "Anything else?"

Isabella shook her head.

Albert capped his black pen and sat on the edge of his desk, gazing thoughtfully at the blank expanse of board. "It's a start," he said, :I know you've all read the police and coroner reports, and listened to all the witness accounts-"

"Jeet here, over." From the back of the room, Baljeet spoke quietly into his headset, interrupting Albert. The captain lowered his voice and continued.

"Now at this point, we don't know what we're dealing with and I know that all of us have some...concerns with how the DPD has been dealing with the situation. But now that we're on the case, I-"

"What!"

At the sound of Baljeet's raised voice, Isabella turned toward the back of the room along with everyone else. He was standing up, agitated, one hand pressed to the ear piece of his set.

"Bravo team,report. Repeat, Bravo team report!"

Albert stood up. "Baljeet, put it on com!"

Baljeet hit the switch on the console and the bright, crackling sound of static filled the room. Isabella strained to hear a human voice amidst the fuzz, but for several tense seconds, there was nothing.

"_... you copy? Malfunction. We're going to have to..."_

The rest was lost in a burst of static. It sounded like Drew Galloway, the Bravo team leader. Isabella bit her bottom lip and exchanged a worried glance with Phineas. Drew had seemed...frantic. They all listened for another moment but there was nothing more then the sound of open air.

"Position?" Albert snapped.

Jeet's face was pale. "They're in the, uh, sector twenty-two, tail end of c...except I've lost the signal. The transmitter is off line."

Isabella felt stunned, she saw the feeling reflected off of her comrade's faces. The helicopter's transmitter was designed to keep working no matter what; the only way it would shut down was if something bug happened- the entire system blanking out or being seriously damaged.

_Something like a crash._

_/_

**Hello everyone. This is ratluck. Thank you for reading my fics, and I would like to take the time to thank Fidelis et Espoire a Noel Dy. I would also like to answear some FAQs.**

**Question: Why is Ferb 28? **

**Answear: Ferb is 28 in this story simply because I needed a certain matureity added to a main character.**

**Question:Are the Sweetwater kids Adyson's kids?**

**Answear:Yes, yes they are. **

**Thanks for reading and please review, I thrive on critisism, good or bad.**


	6. Ch2 Part Two

Phineas felt his stomach knot as he recognized the coordinates.

_The Spencer Estate..._

Drew had said something about a malfunction, it had to be a coincidence- but it didn't feel like one. The Bravos were in trouble, and practically on top of the old Umbrella mansion.

All of this went through Phineas's head in a spit-second, and then he was standing, ready to move. Whatever happened, the S.T.A.R.S. took care of their own.

Albert was already in action. He addressed the team even as he reached for his keys, heading for the gun safe.

"Phinello, take over the board and keep trying to raise them. Baljeet, warm up the 'copter and get clearance, I want us ready to fly in five."

The captain unlocked the safe as Baljeet handed the headset to Phinello and hurried out of the room. The reenforced metal door swung open, revealing an arsenal of rifles and handguns shelved above boxes of ammo. Albert turned to the rest of them, his expression as bland as ever, but his voice brisk with authority.

"Phineas,Ferb-I want you to get the weapons into the 'copter, loaded and secured. Isabella, get the vest and packs and meet us on the roof." He clipped a key off his ring and tossed it to her.

"I'm going to put a call into Monogram, make sure he gets us some backup and EMT s at the barricade," Albert said, then blew out sharply. "Five minutes or less, folks. Let's move."

Isabella left for the locker room and grabbed one of the empty duffel bags from the bottom of the gun safe, nodding at Phineas, Phineas scooped up a second bag and started loading boxes of shells,cartridges,and clips as Ferb carefully handled the weapons, checking each one. Behind them, Phinello again tried hailing the Bravo team to no avail.

Phineas wondered again about the proximity of the Bravo team's last reported position to the Spencer estate. Was their a connection?And if so,how?

_Dan worked for Umbrella, they own the estate._

"Chief?Hawkins. We just lost contact with Bravo;I'm taking us in."

Phineas felt a sudden rush of adrenaline and worked faster, aware that every second counted-could mean the difference between life and death for his friends and teammates. A serious crash was unlikely, as the Bravos would have been flying low and Django was a decent pilot...but what about after they'd gone down?

Albert quickly relayed the information to Monogram over the phone and then hung up, walking back to join them.

"I'm going up to make sure our 'copters outfitted. Phinello, give it another minute and then turn it over to the boys at the front desk. You can help these two carry the equipment up. I'll see you up top."

Albert nodded to them and hurried out, his footsteps clattering loudly down the hall.

"He's good." Ferb said quietly, and Phineas had to agree. It was reassuring to see that their new captain didn't rattle easily. Phineas still wasn't sure how he felt about the man personally, but his respect for Mr. Hawkins abilities was growing by the minute.

"_Come in, Bravo, do you copy? Repeat..."_

Phinello patiently went on, his voice tight with strain, his pleas lost to the haze of white static that pulsed out into the room...

/

**Short, I know, but good chapter from my perspective. I may or may not do a part based on Albert's thoughts. Review and tell me if you think I should. Thanks, read and review, and have a nice night.**


	7. Ch2 Part Three

Albert strode down the deserted hall and through the shabbier of the two story waiting room, nodding briskly at a pair of uniforms stood talking by the soda machine.

The door to the outside landing was chocked open, a faint, humid breeze cutting through the stickiness of the air inside. It was still daylight, but not for much longer. He hoped that it wouldn't complicate matters, although he figured it probably would.

Albert took a left and started down the winding corridor that led to the helipad, absently running through a mental checklist.

…_hailing open, procedure, weapons, gear, report ..._

He already knew that everything was in order, but went through it again anyway. Control was what being a competent leader was all about.

_But to close this case-_

He shut the thought down before it could get any further. He knew what had to be done, and there was still plenty of time. All that mattered now was getting the Bravos back, safe and sound.

Albert opened the door at the end of the hall and stepped out into the bright evening. The rising hum of the 'copters engine and the smell of machine oil filling his senses. The small rooftop helipad was cooler then inside, partly draped by the shadow of an aging water tower, and empty except for the gunmetal gray Alpha helicopter. For the first time, he wondered what had gone wrong for Bravo; he'd had Phinello check out both birds yesterday and they'd been fine, all systems go.

He dismissed that train of thought as he walked toward the 'copter, his shadow falling long across the concrete. It didn't matter, not anymore. What mattered was what came next.

"_Expect the unexpected" _That was the S.T.A.R.S. motto- although that pretty much meant to prepare for anything.

"_Expect nothing" _That was Albert Hawkin's motto. A little less catchy, perhaps, but infinity more useful. It virtually guaranteed that nothing would ever surprise him.

He stepped up to the open pilot door and got a shaky thumbs-up from Baljeet; the man looked positively horrified, and Hawkins briefly considered leaving him behind. Phineas was licensed to fly, and Baljeet had a reputation for choking under the gun; the last thing he needed was for one of his people to freeze up if there was trouble. Then he thought about the Bravos and decided against it. This was a rescue mission. The worst Baljeet could do would be to throw up on himself if the 'copter had crashed badly, and Albert could live with that.

Albert grinned suddenly, wondering what Francis Monogram was doing right now.

_Shitting his pants, no doubt. _Albert chuckled as he stepped back onto the sun-baked asphalt, getting a sudden clear mental image of Monogram, his cheeks red with anger and crap dribbling down his leg. Monogram was a power hungry psychopath, and that made him an idiot.

Unfortunately for all of them, he was an idiot with a little bit of power. Albert had found some evidence that didn't show the chief in a positive light. He had no intention of using that info, but if Monogram attempted to screw things up one more time, he had no qualms about letting that info get out...

… _or at least tell him I have access to it; that would certainly keep him out of the way._

Ferb Fletcher stepped onto the concrete, carrying the ammo cache, his giant biceps flexing as he shifted his hold on the heavy canvas bag and started for the 'copter. Phineas and Phinello followed, Phineas with the sidearms and Phinello lugging a satchel of RPGs, the compact grenade launcher slung over his shoulder.

Albert marveled at Ferb's brute strength as the Alpha climbed in and casually set down the bag like it didn't weigh one-hundred pounds. Ferb was a genius,sure. But in the S.T.A.R.S. muscle was a definite asset. Everyone else in his squad was in good shape, but compared to Ferb, they were pencil necks.

As the three of them stored the equipment, Albert turned his attention back to the door, watching for Isabella. He checked his watch and frowned. It had been just under five minutes since their last contact with Bravo, they'd made excellent time... so where the hell was Isabella? He hadn't interacted with her much, but her file was a rave review. She'd gotten high recommendations from everyone she's worked with, praised by her last captain as highly intelligent and "unusually" calm in a crisis.

_Prodigy or not, she could stand to buy a decent watch._ He silently urged Isabella to get her ass into gear and motioned for Baljeet to start the 'copter.

It was time to find out just how bad things were out there.


	8. Ch3 Part One

Isabella turned toward the door of the dim and silent S.T.A.R. room, her arms full with two bulging duffel bags. She glanced at her watch, pleased to note that it had only taken her three minutes to load up.

Isabella crouched a bit and fumbled at the latch to her locker, balancing the awkward bags on one knee. She'd just grasped it when someone coughed loudly behind her.

Startled, Isabella dropped the bags and spun around, looking for the cougher as her mind reflexively assessed the situation.

"Miss Isabella, isn't it?" A shadow separated itself from the back of the room and stepped forward, a tall man with a low, musical voice. Early forties, a thin frame, dark hair and deep set eyes. He was actually wearing a trench coat, and an expensive one at that.

Isabella readied herself to move quickly if the need arose. She didn't recognize the man.

"That's right," she said warily.

The man stepped toward her, a smile flickering across his face. "I have something for you, " he said softly.

Isabella narrowed her eyes and shifted automatically into a defensive position, balancing her weight on the balls of her feet. "Hold it, asshole- I don't know who the hell you think you are or what you think I want, but your in a police station…."

She trailed off as he shook his head, grinning broadly, his dark eyes twinkling with mirth. "You mistake my intentions, Miss Isabella. Excuse my manners, please. My name is Gurgy, and I'm…a friend of the S.T.A.R.S."

Isabella studied his posture and position and eased her own stance slightly, watching his eyes for even a flicker of movement. She didn't feel threatened by him, exactly…

…_. But how did he know your name?_

"What do you want?"

Gurgy grinned wider. "Ah, straight to the point. But of course, you're on a rather tight schedule….."

He slowly reached into a pocket of his coat and pulled out what appeared to be a cell phone. "Though it's not what I want that's important. It's what I think you should have."

Isabella glanced quickly at the item he held, frowning. "That?"

"Yes. I've assembled a few documents that you should find interesting; compelling, in fact." As he spoke, he held out the device.

She reached for it carefully, realizing as she did that it was a mini-disk reader, a very complicated and costly micro computer. Gurgy was well-financed, who-ever he was.

Isabella tucked the reader into her hip pack, suddenly more then a little curious. "Who do you work for?"

Gurgy laughed, a soft, deep chuckle. "So many questions, so little time. Read the files. And if I were you, I wouldn't mention this conversation to anyone; it could have rather serious consequences."

He walked toward the door in the back of the room, turning back to her as he reached for the knob. Gurgy's lined, weathered features suddenly lost all trace of humor, his gaze serious and intense.

" One more thing, Miss Isabella, and this is critical. Make no mistake: not everyone can be trusted, and not everyone is who they appear to be- even the people you think you know. If you want to stay alive, you'll do well to remember it."

Gurgy opened the door and just like that, he was gone.

Isabella stared after him, her mind going a million different directions at once. She felt like she was in some melodramatic old spy movie and had just met the mysterious stranger. It was laughable, and yet-

_- and yet he just handed you several thousands of dollars worth of equipment with a straight face and told you to watch your back; you think he's kidding?_

She didn't know what to think, and she didn't have time to think it; The Alpha team was probably assembled, waiting, and wondering where the hell she was.

Isabella shouldered the heavy bags and hurried out the door.


	9. Ch3 Part Two

They'd gotten the weapons loaded and secure and Albert was getting impatient. Although his eyes were hidden by dark aviator sunglasses, Phineas could still see it in the captain's stance and in the way he kept his head cocked toward the building. The helicopter was prepped and ready, the blades whipping warm, humid air though the tight compartment with the door open, the sound of the engine drowned out any attempt at conversation. There was nothing they could do but wait.

_Come on, Isabella, don't slow us down here._

Even as Phineas thought it, Isabella emerged from the building and jogged toward them with the Alpha gear, an apologetic look on her face. Albert jumped down to help her, taking one of the stuffed bags as she climbed aboard.

Albert followed, closing the double hatches behind them. Instantly, the roar of the turbine engine was muted to a dull thrum.

"Problems, Isabella?" Albert didn't sound angry, but there was an edge to his voice that suggested he wasn't all that happy,either.

Isabella shook her head. "One of the lockers was stuck. I had a hell of a time getting the key to work."

The captain stared at her for a moment, as if deciding whether or not to give her a hard time, then shrugged. "I'll call maintenance when we get back. Go ahead and distribute the gear."

He picked up a headset and put it on, moving up to sit next to Baljeet as Isabella started passing out the vests. The helicopter lifted slowly, the DPD building falling away as Baljeet positioned them to head northwest.

Phineas crouched down next to Isabella after donning his vest, helping her sort through the gloves and belts as the sped over the city toward the Danville Mountains. The busy urban streets below quickly gave way to the suburbs, wide streets and quiet houses set amidst squares if browning grass and picket fences.

An evening haze had settled over the sprawling community, fuzzing the edges of the picturesque view and giving it an unreal, dream-like quality. Minutes passed in silence as the Alphas prepared themselves and geared up, each team member preoccupied by his or her own thoughts.

With any luck, the Bravo team's helicopter had suffered only a minor mechanical failure. Django would've set it down in one of the scraggly open fields that dotted the forest and was probably up to his elbows in grease by now, cursing at the engine as they waited for Alpha to show. Without the bird in working order, Drew wouldn't start the proposed recon. The alternative...

Phineas grimaced, not wanting to consider any alternatives. He'd once seen the aftermath of a serious 'copter crash back in advanced training. Pilot error had led to the fall of a Huey carrying eleven men and women to a training mission. By the time the rescuers had arrived, there'd been nothing but charred, smoking bones amidst the fiery debris, the sweet, sticky smell of gasoline-roasted flesh heavy in the blackened air. Even the ground had been burning, and that was the image that had haunted his dreams for months afterwords; the earth on fire, the chemical flames devouring the very soil beneath his feet...

There was a slight dip in their altitude as Baljeet adjusted the rotor pitch, jolting him out of the unpleasant memory.

"ETA...Three minutes," Baljeet called back, and Phineas looked around the cabin, noting the silent, grim expressions of his teammate's faces. Phinello had tied a bandana over his head and was intently re-lacing his boots. Ferb was gently rubbing a cloth over his beloved Colt Python, staring out the hatch window. He turned his head to look at Isabella and was surprised to find her staring back at him thoughtfully. She was sitting on the same bench as him and she smiled briefly, almost nervously as he caught her gaze. Abruptly, she unhooked her belt and moved to sit next to him. He caught a faint scent of her skin, a clean, flowery smell.

"Phineas... what you've been saying,about external factors in these cases..."

Her voice was pitched so low that he had to lean in to hear her over the throbbing of the engine, She glanced quickly around to make sure no one was listening, then looked into his eyes deeply, her own carefully guarded.

"I think you might be on the right track," she said softly, "and I'm starting to think that it might not be such a good idea to talk about it."

Phineas's throat suddenly felt dry. "Did something happen?"

Isabella shook her head, her finely chiseled, cute, Hispanic features giving away nothing. "No, I've just been think that maybe you should watch what you say. Maybe not everyone listening is on the right side of this..."

Phineas frowned, not sure what she was trying to tell him. "The only people I've talked to are on the job-"

Her gaze didn't falter and he realized suddenly what she was implying.

_Jesus, and I thought I was paranoid._

"Izzy, I know these people, and even if I didn't, the S.T.A.R.S. have psyche profiles on member, history check, personal references- no way it could happen."

She sighed." Look, forget I said anything. I just... just watch yourself, please?"

"Alright kids, look lively. We're coming up on sector twenty-two, they could be anywhere."

At Albert's interruption, Isabella gave him one final sharp glance and then moved to one of the windows. Phineas followed, as Phinello and Ferb followed suite.

Looking out the small window, he scanned the deepening dusk on automatic instinct, thinking about what Izzy had said. He supposed he should be grateful that he wasn't the only one who suspected some kind of cover-up- but why hadn't she said anything before? And to warn him against the S.T.A.R.S...

_She knows something._

She must, it was the only explanation that made sense. He decided after they picked up Bravo, he'd talk to her again, try to convince her that going to Hawkins would be their best bet. With both of them pushing, the captain would have to listen.

He stared out at the seemingly endless sea of trees as the helicopter skimmed lower, forcing his attention to the search. The Spencer estate had to be nearby, though he couldn't see it in the fading light. Thoughts of Dan and Umbrella and now Isabella's strange warning circled around his exhausted brain, trying to break his focus, but he refused to give in. He was still worried about the Bravos- though as the trees swept by, he was becoming more and more convinced they weren't in any real trouble. It was probably nothing worse then a crossed wire, Django had just shut it down to make repairs-

Then he saw it, less then a mile away, even as Izzy pointed and spoke, his concern turned to cold dread.

"Look, Phineas-"

An oily plume of black smoke boiled up through the last remnants of daylight, staining the sky like a promise of death.


	10. Ch3 Part Three

_Oh, no-_

Ferb clenched his jaw, staring at the stream of smoke that rose up from the trees, feeling sick.

"Captain, two o'clock sharp!" Phineas called, and then they were turning, heading for a dark smudge that could only mean a crash.

Ferb turned away from the window, as he saw the others do the same. Phineas, Isabella, and Phinello all wore the same look, as he imagined he did:shock. S.T.A.R.S. sometimes got hurt in the line of duty, it was part of the job- but accidents like this...

Albert's only visible sign of concern was from the set of his mouth, a thin, grim line against his tanned skin. "Listen up. We've got people down in a potentially hostile environment. I want you all armed and organized. Ferb, you take point."

Ferb nodded, pulling himself together: Albert was right; now was not the time to get emotional.

"Baljeets gonna set us down as close to the site as he can get, what looks to be about fifty meters from their last coordinates. He'll stay with the 'copter and keep it warm in case of trouble. Any questions?"

Nobody spoke, and Albert nodded briskly. "Good. Ferb, load us up. We can leave the rest of the gear on board and come back for it later."

The captain stepped to the front to talk to Baljeet while Isabella, Phineas, and Phinello turned to Ferb. As weapons specialist, he checked the firearms in and out to each S.T.A.R.S. member and kept said weapons in prime condition.

Ferb turned to the cabinet next to the outer hatch and unhooked the latch, exposing six Beretta 9mm handguns on a metal rack, cleaned and sighted only yesterday. Each weapon held fifteen rounds, semi-jacketed hollow points. It was a good gun, though Ferb preferred his Python, a lot bigger punch with .357 rounds...

He quickly distributed the weapons, passing out three loaded clips with each.

"I hope we don't need these," Phinello said, slapping in one of his clips into his Beretta, and Ferb nodded his head in agreement. Just because he paid his dues to the NRA didn't mean he was some trigger-happy dumb ass, looking to kill; He just liked guns.

Albert joined them again and the five of them stood by the hatch, waiting for Baljeet to bring them in. As they neared the plume of smoke, the helicopter's whirling blades pushed it down and out, creating a black fog that blended into the heavy shadows of trees. Any chance of spotting the downed vehicle from the air was lost to the smoke and dust.

Jeet swung them around and settled the bird into a scrappy patch of tall grass. Even as the rails wobbled, Ferb had his hand on the latch, ready to move out.

A warm hand fell on his shoulder. Ferb turned and saw Phineas looking at him intently.

"We're right behind you, bro." Phineas said, and Ferb nodded. He wasn't worried, not with the Alpha team backing him up. All he was concerned with was the Bravo team's situation. Drew Galloway was a good friend of his. Drew's wife Drear had baby-sat for his girls more then Ferb could count, and Drear was good friends with Vanessa. The thought of him dead, to a stupid mechanical screw-up...

_Hang on,buddy, we're comin'._

One hand on the butt of his Colt, Ferb pulled the handle and stepped out into the humid,whipping twilight of Danville Forest, ready for anything.


	11. Ch4 Part One

They spread out in a fan formation and started north, Albert and Phineas on Ferb's left, Isabella and Phinello on his right. Isabella could smell burning fuel and wisps of smoke curling through the foliage.

They moved quickly through the wooded area, visibility dropping off sharply beneath the needled branches. The warm scents of pine and earth were overshadowed by the burning smell, the acrid odor growing stronger with each step. From the dim light filtering toward them, Isabella saw that there was another clearing ahead, high with brittle grasses.

"I see it, dead ahead!"

Isabella felt her heart speed up at Ferb's shout, and then they were all running, hurrying to catch up to their point man.

She emerged from the corse of trees, Phinello next to her. Ferb was already at the downed 'copter, Phineas and Albert right behind him. Smoke was still rising from the silent wreck, but it was thinning. If there had been a fire, it had died out.

She and Phinello reached the others and stopped, staring, on one speaking as they surveyed the scene. The long, wide body of the 'copter was intact, not even a sing scratch visible. The port landing rail looked bent, but besides that and the dying haze of smoke, there seemed to be nothing wrong with it. The hatches stood open, the beam from Albert's penlight showing them an undamaged cabin. From what they could see, most of the Bravo's gear was still on board.

It didn't make any sense. It hadn't been fifteen minutes since their last transmission; if anyone had been injured, they would have stayed. And if they had to leave, why would they leave their equipment behind?

Albert handed the light to Phinello and nodded toward the cockpit. "Check it out. The rest of you spread out and look for clues. Tracks, shell casings, signs of struggle, you find anything, let me know. And stay alert."

/

Isabella joined the search as Phinello stepped out of the cockpit, looking as confused as she felt. She waited to hear his report as he handed the light back to Albert, shrugging nervously.

"I don't know what happened. The bent rail suggests a forced landing, but other then that and they electrical system, everything looks fine."

Albert sighed, then raised his voice so the others could hear. "Circle out, people. Three meters apart, widen as you go."

Isabella moved over to stand between Phineas and Ferb, both men already scanning the ground by their feet as they slowly moved east and northeast of the helicopter. Albert stepped into the cabin, probing the darkness with his penlight. Phinello headed west.

After mere minutes of searching, Isabella stopped, listening. The sighing, crackling steps of the others, the far away drone of their 'copter-

_-and nothing else. Not even a chirp, a twitter. Nothing…_

They were in the woods, in the middle of summer; where the hell were the animals, the insects? The forest was unnaturally still, the only sounds human. For the first time since they'd set down, she was afraid.

She was about to call out to the others when Phinello shouted from somewhere behind them, his voice high and crackling.

"Hey! Over here!"

Isabella turned and started jogging back, Phineas and Ferb following suit. Albert was still in the helicopter and had drawn his weapon at Phinello's cry, pointing up as he broke into a run.

In the murky light, Isabella could make out Phinello's shadowy form, crouched down in the high grass near some trees. Instinctively, she pulled out her own sidearm and double-timed, suddenly overwhelmed by a sense of encroaching doom.

Phinello stood up, holding something, and let out a strangled scream before dropping it, his eyes wide with terror.

_A S.T.A.R.S. handgun, a Beretta- and a disembodied human hand curled around it, hacked off at the wrist…_

There was a deep, guttural snarl from behind Phinello, from the darkness of the trees, an animal growling-

-Joined by another rasping, throaty shriek-

- And suddenly dark, powerful shapes erupted from the woods, lunging at Phinello and taking him down.

"Phinello!"

Isabella's scream ringing in his ears, Phineas drew his weapon and stopped in his tracks, trying to get a good shot at the raging beasts that were mauling Phinello. Albert's penlight illuminated the scene, revealing a nightmare.

Phinello's body was all but hidden by the three raging beasts that tore at him, ripping at him with gnashing, dripping jaws. They were about the size of German Shepard, except they had no fur, no skin. Wet, red sinew and muscle flashed between Albert's wavering light, the dog-creatures shrieking and snapping in a frenzy of bloodlust.

Phinello cried out, a burbling, liquid sound as he flailed weakly at the savage attackers, blood pouring from his multiple wounds. It was the scream of a dying man. There was no time to waste; Phineas targeted and open fired.

Three rounds smacked wetly into one of the dogs, a forth shot going high. There was a single, high pitched yelp and the beast went down, it's side heaving. The other two continued their vicious assault, indifferent to the thunderous shots. Phineas watched in horror as one of the slavering hellhounds lunged at and ripped out Phinello's throat, exposing bloody gristle and the glistening sickness of bone.

The S.T.A.R.S. opened up, sending a rain of explosive fire at Phinello's killers. Red splatters burst into the air, the dog-things still trying to get at the spastic corpse while bullets riddled their strange flesh. With a final series of harsh, barking mewls, they fell-and didn't rise again.

"Hold your fire!"

Phineas took his finger of the trigger but continued to point the handgun at the fallen creatures, ready to blow apart the first one that so much as twitched. Two of them were still breathing, growling softly between panting gasps. The third sprawled lifelessly next to Phinello's mutilated body.

_-They should be dead, should've stayed down after the first shots! What are they?_

Albert took a single step toward the slaughter in front of them-

-When all around them, deep, echoing howls filled the warm night air, shrill voices of predatorily fury coming at them from all directions.

"Back to the 'copter, now!" Albert shouted.

Phineas ran, Ferb and Isabella in front of him and Albert bringing up the rear. The four of them sprinted through dark trees, unseen branches slapping at them as the howls grew louder, more insistent.

Albert turned and fired blankly into the woods as they stumbled toward the waiting helicopter, its blades already spinning. Phineas felt relief sweep through him; Baljeet must have heard the shots. They still had a chance…

Phineas could hear the creatures behind them now, the sharp rustling of lean, muscular bodies tearing through the trees. He could also see Baljeet's pale, wide-eyed face, through the glass front of the 'copter.

_Another fifty feet, almost there-_

Suddenly, the helicopter jerked into the air, accelerating wildly. Phineas caught a final glimpse of Baljeet's face and could see the blind terror there, the unthinking panic that had gripped him as he clawed at the controls.

"No! Don't go!" Phineas screamed, but the wobbling rails were already out of reach, the 'copter pitching forward and away from them through the thundering darkness.

They were going to die.


	12. Ch4 Part Two

_Damn you, Baljeet Rai!_

Albert turned and fired again, and was rewarded with a squeal of pain from one of their pursuers. There were at least four more close behind, gaining on them rapidly.

"Keep going!" he shouted, trying to get his bearings as they stumbled on, the piercing shrieks of the mutant dogs, urging them faster. The sound of the helicopter was dying away, the cowardly Indian taking their escape with him.

Albert fired again, the shot going wide, and saw another shadowy form join the hunt. The dogs were brutally fast. They didn't stand a chance, unless….

_The mansion!_

"Veer right, one o'clock!" Albert yelled, hoping his sense of direction was still intact. They couldn't outrun the dogs, but maybe they could keep them at bay long enough to reach safety.

He spun and fired the last round in his clip. "Empty!"

They stumbled and dodged through the woods, tripping on uneven ground as the killer dogs came on. Lungs aching for air, Hawkins imagined that he could smell the fetid, rotting-meat stench of the beasts as they narrowed the distance and he somehow found the capacity to run faster.

_We should be there by now, gotta be close…._

Phineas saw it first through the thinning shadows of trees, the looming monstrosity back-lit by an early moon. "There! Run for that house!"

Albert actually heard the snap of powerful jaws behind him and fired at the sound, intuitively squeezing the trigger as he ran for the front of the mansion.

Isabella reached the doors first, slamming into the heavy wood with one shoulder as she snatched at the handles. Amazingly, they crashed open; brightness spilled out across the stone steps. She turned and started firing, providing cover as the three gasping men ran for the opening in the darkness.

They piled into the mansion, Isabella diving in last and Ferb throwing his considerable bulk against the door, wedging it closed against the snarls of the creatures. He collapsed against it, face red and sweating, as Phineas found the doors steel deadbolt and slid it home.

They'd made it. Outside, the dogs howled and scrabbled uselessly at the heavy doors.

Albert took a deep breath of the cool, quiet air that filled the well lit room and exhaled sharply. As he'd already known, the Spencer estate wasn't abandoned. And now that _they _were here, all his careful planning was for nothing.

Albert silently cursed Baljeet Rai again and wondered if they were any better off inside then out….


	13. Ch5 Part One

Isabella took in their new surroundings as she caught her breath, feeling like she was a character in the nightmare that had just taken a turn into a grand fantasy.

_Deserted, huh?_

It was a palace, pure and simple. The room they had escaped into was the epitome of lavish. It was huge, easily bigger then her entire house, tiled in gray-flecked marble and dominated by a wide, carpeted staircase that led to a second floor balcony. Fluted wall sconces cast funnels of light across walls of cream. In short, it was magnificent.

"That the hell is this?" Ferb muttered. No one answered him.

Isabella took a deep breath and decided immediately she didn't like it. There was a sense of…..wrongness to the vast room, an atmosphere of vague oppression. It felt haunted somehow, though by who or what, she couldn't say.

_Beats the hell out of getting eaten by mutant hellhounds, gotta give it that much. _And on that train of thought, _God- poor Phinello! _There hadn't been time to mourn him, and there wasn't tome now-but he would be missed.

She turned toward the others, wondering what their take on all this was. Phineas and Ferb both looked uncertain, their faces blushed and sweaty as they surveyed the room. Albert was crouched by the front door, examining one of the latches .

He stood up, his dark shades still in place, seeming as detached as ever. "The wood around this lock is splintered. Somebody broke this door open before we got here."

Phineas looked hopeful. "Maybe the Bravo's?"

Albert nodded. "That's what I'm thinking. Help should be on the way, assuming our "friend" Mr. Rai bothers to call it in."

His voice dripped sarcasm, and Isabella felt her own anger kindling. Baljeet had screwed up big time, had almost cost them their lives. There was no excuse for what he'd done.

He trailed off, walking back toward the group. "How we set for ammo?"

Isabella ejected the clip from her Beretta and counted: three rounds left, plus the two loaded magazines on her belt. Thirty three shots. Phineas had twenty-two left, Albert, seventeen. Ferb had a total of nineteen rounds for his considerably stronger Colt.

_Thump!_

A sound of something heavy sliding to the floor, somewhere close by. In unison, they turned toward the single door on the east wall. Isabella suddenly remembered every horror movie she'd ever seen; a strange house, a strange noise…..She shivered, and decided she was most definitely going to kick Baljeet's narrow ass when they got out of here.

"Phineas, check it out and report back ASAP," Albert said. "we'll wait here in case the DPD starts knocking. You run into any trouble, fire your weapon and we'll find you."

Phineas nodded and started toward the door, his boots clacking loudly against the marble floor.

Isabella felt a sense of fear and concern wash over her. "P-phineas?"

His hand on the knob, he turned back, and she realized she couldn't tell him anything that made any sense. There was so much wrong with this situation that she didn't know where to start-

_And he's a trained Professional, and so are you. Stop acting like a lovestruck teen and do your job._

"Take care," she said finally. It wasn't what she wanted to say, but it'd have to be enough.

Phineas gave her a lopsided grin, then raised his Beretta and stepped through the door way.

Isabella heard the ticking of a clock and then he was gone, closing the door behind him.

Ferb caught her gaze and smiled at her, a look that told her not to worry- but Isabella couldn't shake the sudden certainty that Phineas wouldn't be coming back.


	14. Ch5 Part Two

Phineas swept the room, taking in the stately elegance of the environment as he realized he was alone; whatever had made the noise, they weren't there. The solemn ticking of a grandfather clock filled the cool air, echoing off the shining black and white tiles. He was in a dining hall, the kind he'd only seen in movies about rich people. It was decorated with expensive art and a fireplace with swords and a coat of arms hung over the mantle. There was a closed door to the right of the fireplace….

Phineas lowered his weapon and started for the door, still awed by the wealth of the "abandoned" mansion. The dining room had polished red wood trim and expensive artwork on the beige stucco walls. The large table could easily seat twenty, although it was only set for a handful on people. Judging by the dust on the lacy place mats, nothing had been served for weeks.

_Except no one is supposed to have been here for thirty years!_

He wrinkled his nose, frowning. There was a vague odor in the air, a faint scent of something unpleasant-Something familiar.

.One summer when he was a kid, the chain had come off his bike when he'd been out on a ride with some friends. He ended up in a ditch about six inches away from a choice bit of road kill, the dried up, pulpy remains of once might have been a woodchuck. Much to the amusement and concerns of his friends, he'd vomited his lunch over the carcass, taken a deep breath, and puked again. He still remembered the sun-baked scent of drying rat, like thickly soured milk and bile; the same smell that lingered in the corridor now like a bad dream.

_FUMMP…_

Phineas edged toward the door from which the sound came from noticing the door was not closed all the way. With a gentle tap the door swung inward, into a dim hall with green flecked wallpaper. A broad-shouldered man was standing not twenty feet away, his tattered and stained clothes and his stance indicated he was drunk or injured.

_Gotta be sick, dying maybe…_

Whatever was wrong with him, Phineas didn't like it; his instincts were screaming at him to do something. He stepped into the corridor and trained his Beretta on the man's torso. "Hold it, don't move!"

The man completed a rotation and started toward Phineas, shambling forward into the light. His-_its_-face was deathly pale, except for the blood smeared around its rotting lips. Flaps of dried skin hung from its sunken creaks, and the dark wells of the creature's eye sockets glittered with hunger as it reached out with skeletal hands-

Phineas fired three shots that smacked into the creature's upper chest in a fine spray of crimson. With a gasping moan, it crumpled to the floor, dead. Phineas staggered back, his thoughts racing in time with his hammering heart.

The cannibal attacks, the disappearances, only one explanation…

Zombies.

No, no way, that was fiction- but maybe a sickness or some kind of disease, mimicking the symptoms. He had to tell the others. He turned and grabbed at the handle, but the heavy door wouldn't move, it must have locked itself when he'd stumbled-

Behind him, a wet movement. Phineas spun, eyes wide as the twitching creature clawed at the wooden floor, pulling itself toward him in an eager, single-minded silence. Phineas realized that it was drooling, and the sight of the stinky pink rivulets pooling to the wooden floor finally spurred him to action.

He fired again, two shots into the things decaying, upturned face. Dark holes opened up in its knobby skull, sending tiny rivers of fluid and fleshy tissue through its lower jaw. With a heavy sigh, the rotting corpse settled to the floor in a spreading red lake.

Phineas didn't want to make any bets on it staying down. He gave one final futile yank on the door and then stepped carefully past the body, moving down the corridor. He rattled the handle of a door on his left, but it was locked. There was a tiny etching in the key plate, what looked like a sword; he filed that bit of information in his confused, whirling thoughts, and continued on, gripping his Beretta tightly.

There was an offshoot to his right with a single door, but he ignored it, wanting to find a way to circle back to the front hall. The others must have heard the shots, but he had to assume there would be more creatures running around here like the one he'd killed. The rest of the team might already have their hands full.

There was a door at the end of the hall on the left, where the corridor turned. Phineas hurried toward it, the putrid scent of the creature-

_-the zombie, call it what it is-_

_-_making him want to gag. As he neared the door, he realized the smell was actually getting worse, intensifying with each step.

He heard the soft, hungry moan as his hand touched the knob, even as it registered that he only had two bullets left in his clip. In the shadows to his right, movement.

_Gotta reload, get somewhere safe-_

Phineas jerked the door open and stepped into the arms of the shambling creature that waited on the other side, its peeling fingers grasping at him as it lunged for his throat…


End file.
